Heartbreak Warfare
by FiferRose
Summary: "He was the type of guy that breaks your heart and makes you like it, you know?" Arthur discusses his first heartbreak with Eames, and why it made him the way he is now. M/M SLASH: Arthur/Eames.


**A/N:**** After spending FOUR HOURS (no exaggeration at all) reading Arthur/Eames fanfic from the small, eyeball-burning screen of my non-smart cell phone, I HAD to write something. This two are my new favorite pair. :D**

**This was inspired by the single line, "**He was the type of guy that breaks your heart and makes you _like_ it**." So, yeah. This came about in around thirty minutes. Song/title is "Heartbreak Warfare," by John Mayer. **

**ENJOY. :D**

"And that concludes the story of my first heartbreak, which, luckily, I can now find funny."

"I still can't believe your mother caught you mid-fellatio," Arthur was still laughing as he scooted closer to Eames.

"Well, it was surprisingly non-mortifying for each of us. Bradley was the only one that really reacted. Mum actually praised me later on for being on the receiving end. Her exact words were, 'You shouldn't get on your knees until he's swept you off your feet.'"

"There should be a greeting card bearing that sentiment."

Eames laughed a relaxed and easy laugh. "There should, indeed. Alright, your turn, dearest."

Arthur tensed slightly beneath Eames' arm. "Mine isn't quite as entertaining a story as yours."

"I'm perfectly alright with that."

"Okay. I was in college and he was the type of guy that breaks your heart and makes you _like_ it, you know?" Arthur felt Eames nod, maybe a bit too emphatically, as he continued, "I fell for him immediately after I met him, and I fell _hard_. I followed him around like a lost puppy, always trying the things he wanted to try, going to the places he wanted to go, meeting the people he wanted to meet. Always, everything was for him. Normally, that selflessness is a good thing, but not when the adoration is merely one-way. I was a very different person back then. Not so obsessive, for one. Naïve, for another, which changed when I came home one Tuesday. It was the middle of the morning, because I had forgotten to pack a book that I needed. So, I waltzed into our apartment to find my then-boyfriend bare-backing his boy toy on our kitchen counter."

A noise of disgust sounded in Eames' throat. "Did he-?" he began.

"No. They were both clean. I got tested. Twice, just to be sure. Apparently, the pair had grown tired of the bedroom, overly accustomed to it after so long. You want to know what the worst part is? His 'fuck buddy' was my ex-roommate, the guy I'd bunked with in the dorms right before I moved in with Howard."

Eames scoffed. "Howard? That's a bloody common name for gits."

Arthur chuckled and then Eames urged him to finish his story, "Sorry. Continue."

"Yeah, so, anyway. I walked in, and was subsequently scarred for life. Part of me wanted to throw things at the two of them, to beat the shit out of my so-called friend for what he had done, but mostly I just felt sick. So, I got out of there as quickly as I possibly could. I don't know if either of them followed me out or tried to get hold of me. I threw my phone in the first garbage can I found."

"A little melodramatic, weren't we, pet?"

"Just a touch indulgent, maybe. But understandably so, I think."

"Indeed. Carry on."

Arthur let out a huff of air that tickled Eames' chest.

"Well, the apartment was in my name, but I couldn't stay there. Not after that, and just thinking about... Anyway, I broke my lease the next day, and then I moved into a little dump across town. The end."

"Well, that tells me a lot about _what you did_, but not much _about_ _you_."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that I want you to tell me how you felt and what it was like. Not just the motions you went through. Those I could guess."

"Oh, I don't know," Arthur faltered.

"You can't be afraid of telling me things, love. You need not worry about my attentions wavering. I am yours eternally. I don't even _know_ any of your ex-roommates."

"Is that supposed to be funny?"'

"I suppose so. Did it not work?"

"Maybe just a little."

"Then tell me, love. Is this arsehole Howard the one that caused you to become the way you are now? The overly careful, must know every, single, detail of everything, sort of OCD Arthur that I've come to know, annoy, and love?"

"No," Arthur stated adamantly. "I did this for me, not because of him."

"I'll take that as an affirmative to my question, yeah?"

"Oh, shut up, Eames."

"I'm quite serious, dear."

"Yes. I…. When it happened, it felt like everything I knew to be true was tossed off a cliff. I had to start all over. I let things get out of control between Howard and me."

"You mean you weren't obnoxiously logical when you were in love with him? You are beginning to make me envy the pillock. And don't you dare roll your eyes at me."

"Too late. What I meant is that I let him use me. That is basically what our so-called 'relationship' eventually boiled down to: convenience, for him. And for some horrid reason, I put up with his treatment of me. I was more the damsel in distress than I care to admit, always waiting for him to come around. God, it was pathetic, really."

"The only pathetic thing about it is that the bloody bastard did not realize just how blessedly lucky he was to have you, Arthur. I mean that."

Arthur gave a sound somewhere between a sigh and a laugh before leaning up to kiss the man holding him.

"Thank you. So, when you said that Howard is, and I quote, 'a bloody common name for gits' end quote, you sounded like you were speaking from personal experience."

"Yes."

"Well…?"

It was now Eames' turn to sigh. Why did he suddenly feel so obligated to return Arthur's openness?

"You don't know my full name, do you, love?"

"Sean Eames. That's all I could ever find."

"That's because I dropped my middle name, legally, for once."

"What does that have to do with…?" Realization struck Arthur then. "Oh. Your middle name was Howard…. Which was your _father's_ name."

"Bingo."

"You don't talk about him much."

"I don't talk about anything much, darling. You never let me get a word in edgewise."

"Oh, ha ha. Unless this is opposite day, you are now _officially_ a liar."

"Official only now? You're a bit behind the times, love. And, no, it is _not_ opposite day. It is, however, 'Snog the Living Daylights Out of Your Boyfriend' Day."

"Oh, really? Is that an English holiday? Because I've never heard of it. Nice way of avoiding the subject, by the way."

"It's an Eamesish holiday. You sure you've not heard of it?" He completely ignored the last bit of Arthur's words.

"I am fairly certain, yes."

"Pity. Well, perhaps I could introduce you to yet another fine English custom, yeah?"

"Aye," Arthur said, English accent horribly off-kilter. French, Russian, Japanese? No problem. A slight variation on his own damned native language? That was a different story.

Eames chuckled and leaned towards the now-upright Arthur, brushing their lips together oh-so-slightly.

"Good. And then we'll work on your accent."


End file.
